


darling, your hand I hold

by lunaeobscura



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Day At The Beach, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:50:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaeobscura/pseuds/lunaeobscura
Summary: "I remember little more than scattered images from my life then: [...] my mother on the beach, her eyes turned towards the Aegean. In this last memory, I am skipping stones for her, plink, plink, plink, across the skin of the sea. She seems to like the way the ripples look, dispersing back to glass. Or perhaps it is the sea itself she likes. At her temple a starburst of white gleams like bone, the scar from the time her father hit her with the hilt of a sword. Her toes poke up from the sand where she has buried them, and I am careful not to disturb them as I search for rocks. I choose one and fling it out, glad to be good at this.It is the only memory I have of my mother and so golden that I am almost sure I have made it up. After all, it was unlikely for my father to have allowed us to be alone together, his simple son and simpler wife."Or, a glimpse of that day at the beach.





	darling, your hand I hold

**Author's Note:**

> I imagined this scene from the moment I read the above passage for the first time, but I never knew exactly how I wanted to write it or what I wanted to convey. I just wanted them to have one day together.
> 
> Title from Patrick Wolf's "The Days".

the late afternoon brings wind along, not the best for beach day. it doesn't matter though, because Patroclus giggles at the shrill squawks of seagulls nearby and that is enough for her.

  
"bread, mama? they're hungry!"

  
so she breaks off chunks of the remaining loaf, placing them gingerly on his tiny tanned hands, waiting for hers to tremble, dreading it -- but the moment passes and her hands stay steady and her Patroclus wobbles off towards the gulls, smile so damn bright not even Helios could rival him. he leaves the bread on the floor, not too close to the birds, and runs back to her, hiding against her flat chest.

  
the gulls pounce on the bread, snapping at each other the same. one grabs a big piece and flies off, smarter than anything she's ever done. she holds Patroclus tight, maybe a bit too tight, and blinks as if that'll chase the tears away.

  
"show mama your rocks, Patroclus."

  
he pushes off her, feet sinking on the soft wet sand and pulls in all sorts of stones - greys and browns and the occasional blacks - towards her. the wind picks up a tiny bit and ruffles his head. he huffs and pulls it back; it stays right for less than a second.

  
"can i take one, mama? for papa."

  
imagination or not, her shoulder, where a thin and puckered scar rests, chafes like the salt at the back of her throat. "papa... papa doesn't like rocks, baby. but i do. i love them."

  
"more than my flower?" Patroclus asks, eyes wide as only children have them.

  
"no, your flower is my favorite. here," she plucks it out from behind her ear and plants it behind his. "a flower for a flower."

  
he claps his hands, "another friend!"

  
she smiles but it pains her to do it. she looks at her son, busy petting the flower she gave him, babbling to it really, and tries to commit this day - his sweet face - to memory.

  
she kisses his forehead, his still chubby cheeks. "come, baby, it's time to go back."

  
her body's riddled with scars but the one under her belly is the only one that gave her peace. knowing that her body endured despite the frailness of her mind, that she lived to see this gentle creature tell the tale is her only source of pride. she made him and he's alive and innocent. her mind can forget but her body will remember for her.

  
_i want days like this, Zeus. no more grief, just me and my son. please_.

  
"mama loves you, pat. so much."

  
he grins, crinkle-eyed, safe and content. she commits his face to memory.

 

 

(he'll forget this day actually happened when he's older, will think it's wish fulfillment after your mind deteriorates and you forget you ever had him. he'll find love and think it's the only time he's felt it, not knowing he had yours before.

  
he'll recall this and cherish it anyway, though, wish fulfillment or not.)


End file.
